CHAPTER 95: CHAPTER 95: HAVE YOU REALLY NOT FALLEN IN LOVE WITH MY SISTER?

At this moment, Cynthia saw Cyrus Hawthorne striding with a black umbrella from the villa, and tears instantly welled up in her eyes.

"I know I shouldn’t have deceived you, Cian. I really know I was wrong. I’ve been reflecting on myself these past few days. Please don’t ignore me, okay?"

Cyrus’s always cold and indifferent face now only showed heartache and anxiety. Hearing Cynthia’s words, his heart softened despite being hardened for so many days.

"Enough. Let’s go inside first." He draped the coat he was holding over Cynthia’s shoulders and was about to lead her into the house.

But Cynthia firmly grasped his clothes, refusing to move, "Cian, I truly didn’t mean to deceive you; I was just too afraid of losing you."

"Back then, I thought I was about to die, so I went abroad. I feared becoming a burden to you, but I feared even more never seeing you again, so I returned, just wanting to see you once before I left; for your sake, I decided to stay..."

"You said you’d divorce Ann and marry me, said you wouldn’t fall in love with her. I remember everything." Cynthia’s face was wet with rain and tears, her beautiful eyes reddened as she looked at Cyrus, "But, do you truly want to divorce her?"

"Have you really not fallen in love with her?"

Cyrus’s long fingers holding the umbrella froze slightly, but he was used to not showing emotions since childhood, never revealing the slightest even if something stirred inside.

Like a deep cold pool, without ripples.

Let alone such an unreasonable assumption.

He denied hoarsely, "No, I promised you. I’ve never forgotten."

The reason he hadn’t divorced was because his grandfather didn’t want him to.

What Cyrus didn’t realize was the irritation gathering between his brows had almost thickened beyond dissolution.

"Really?" Cynthia smiled bleakly, throwing herself into Cyrus’s arms, "Cian, I’m really scared, scared you’ll forget your childhood promise to me, scared you’ll fall for someone else."

"I lack a sense of security, which is why I did such absurd things. I’m sorry, I’m sorry..."

Cyrus’s throat moved twice before he reached out to embrace Cynthia, comforting her, "I won’t. The reason I haven’t divorced Ann Vaughn yet isn’t the way you think. You just need to trust me."

It’s solely because he wanted to hold onto the initiative for divorce that he’s delayed, nothing more.

Thinking of this, Cyrus’s slightly warm, narrow eyes suddenly turned to ice, coldly indifferent with no trace of warmth.

Not far away, standing on the terrace, Ann Vaughn watched the two figures embracing deeply in the rain. Her lip color faded to a powerless white.

Her slender fingers tightened around the railings as she watched them, gradually losing her composure.

She had known long ago that the person Cyrus loved was Cynthia Vaughn, not her, and knew he would divorce her someday.

But the clarity within her was never as vivid as when the scabbed wound was once again cut open, harshly sprinkled with salt, the resulting pain making her truly understand.

Ann Vaughn’s hollow eyes looked at Cyrus’s pure black back facing her, and suddenly she smiled.

She was Cyrus’s wife; naturally, she should rush down now to separate them, remind them of this reality.

But she didn’t want to be so miserable, without dignity.

The unloved party has already lost from the start.

The rain gradually stopped, the night more ink-like and dense after being washed by the rain, scenery renewed.

Ann Vaughn’s delicate face was calm as she packed the small things she hadn’t been able to take before, listening to the continuous footsteps from outside the door, devoid of emotion.

Cynthia refused to go to the hospital, so Cyrus called a private doctor to examine her in the middle of the night.

Cynthia refused to eat, so he asked the servants to invite the chef from Celestial Tower to prepare the dishes she liked.

The noise outside was so loud, she couldn’t ignore it even if she wanted to.

After packing up, Ann Vaughn left the room, intending to leave now. They were all busy with Cynthia’s matters; they shouldn’t notice her.

But unexpectedly, as Ann opened the door, she saw Cyrus, who had changed his clothes, coming toward her.

His gaze didn’t pause on Ann at all, heading straight for Cynthia’s room.

The bit of tension that had just risen in Ann’s heart instantly vanished, her heart pricked lightly like by a knife tip, indescribable whether it was pain or something else.

As she prepared to head downstairs, she heard Cyrus’s cold voice from behind.

"Ann Vaughn, you better not regret stepping out of this door today."

Ann’s back stiffened involuntarily, wanting to turn and ask what he meant, but her mind uncontrollably flashed back to the scene in the rain she had just witnessed.

A mist rose from the depths of her eyes; she pressed her lips tightly and walked downstairs in silence to leave.

Cyrus’s narrow eyes darkened like shadows as he watched her retreating back for a few seconds, then casually withdrew his gaze.

This was her own doing.

-

Returning to The Water Terrace, Ann immediately took a hot shower and changed into dry clothes, then went into the kitchen to brew medicine, just about to destroy the medicine packet.

Suddenly remembering that her pregnancy had already been discovered by Cyrus, there was no need to hide it anymore.

A bit lost, she stirred the medicine, waited until it cooled a little, then drank it all. The bitterness filling her mouth slightly overshadowed the bitterness in her heart.

After drinking the medicine, she returned to her room and dragged her suitcase out from under the bed.

From the bottom compartment, she pulled out a medical book, inside tucked a sketch of people.

Ann picked up the paper, yellowed over time, preserved because she later laminated it to keep it intact.

This was their first and only ’photo together’.

It was drawn by Cyrus when he was young, with a line of immature handwriting she added later.

"If time never ages, I would love you as I did initially."

Even now, Ann wonders if that last meeting had not been missed, would today be different?

But alas, there’s no ’if’ in life.

Missed is missed.

Ann carefully put the paper to her chest, holding it and closing her eyes, her lips curling gently.

Smiling completely contentedly.

The next morning.

Ann reviewed the materials and script needed for today’s program several times to avoid forgetting key points during the live broadcast, then prepared to leave.

Arriving downstairs, she saw Sutton Jennings leaning against his Aston Martin.

Startled for a moment, Ann ran over to him, remembering to thank him, "Thank you so much last time. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t know what would have happened."

These days had been so muddled that she had even forgotten to personally thank Sutton.

Sutton’s peach blossom eyes curved slightly, "It’s nothing. You don’t need to dwell on it. If there’s anything you need in the future, feel free to tell me."

His last sentence was spoken with a reserved meaning Ann didn’t immediately understand, she just smiled.